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The Nightmare Game

Page 27

by Martin, S. Suzanne


  “I don’t get it, though” I questioned, “If what you say is all true, if this piece is Illeaocean, how could it possibly have survived so much destruction and remained so remarkably intact?”

  “Seems impossible, doesn’t it? Arrosha tells me that it was not in Illeaocea at the time. It was far, far away, en route to Illeaocea’s staunchest ally, a country on the other side of the world. It was to be a gift from one government to another in the name of peace. Arrosha tells me that she was traveling with the diplomatic envoy at the time of the destruction and that because the sculpture was in transit, it was heavily armored with multiple energy shields to protect it from damage. No one saw the end coming, so they had no idea of the massive danger they had actually shielded it against. She said that she searched for, found and unearthed this piece long afterward, while she was a Goddess of ancient Mesopotamia, and restored it. Almost nothing else survives of that ancient world, especially not anything even remotely close to this statue’s size. A few other small mementoes that, like this carving, were with her and her entourage at the time of the cataclysm also survived and they remain in her possession to this day. They are all so precious to her that she keeps them in her private abode and will not even bring them to this mansion. I’ve never seen them; no one has. This sculpture, a stylized portrait of her, is here only for our benefit, to remind us of her when she is absent. It is a testament to her ancient heritage and position.”

  “I can’t believe that there isn’t even a scratch on it, though. Even if it survived, that just seems impossible to me.”

  “The protective shields apparently worked amazingly well. It boggles my mind that their power sources were that strong and could have endured long enough to rise to the task, but evidently, they did.”

  Ben began to look around as if he were expecting someone.

  “Listen, Ashley,” he continued, “as much as I hate to stop here, somebody should be calling for us soon, so let’s start meandering over toward the direction of the hookah room awhile, okay?”

  “Sure,” I agreed.

  We resumed walking toward our right, eventually winding up at a large burgundy-black door with gold trim and hardware.

  “This, my dear,” he said, his joviality returning, “Is the front door. It is where we found you. Or, at least where Geoffrey found you. And I’m so glad he did.” Ben ruffled the hair on the top of my head playfully, as if I were a small child. He was the most likeable person that I had met in years and my affection for him was growing.

  As we continued, we passed several more antiquities upon which Ben did not comment. He now was in a bit of a hurry because apparently, whatever passed for dinner around here was rapidly approaching. We reached a raised area that was opposite the Calligula and Medusa statues and separated from the Great Room by a long archway with a partial wall to either side. Tied-back curtains and two busts on pedestals framed the archway to this relatively smaller empty space. We climbed several steps onto the platform where I saw neatly stacked folding chairs and sheet music stands tucked away in the front left corner of the room, hidden from the view of any vantage point of the Great Room. While the long wall was solid, the more narrow outer wall contained two long windows, each covered by the same heavy drapes as the rest.

  “This is our stage,” he said. “The chairs and music stands are from our last party. Ashley, you missed a great party we threw just the day before your arrival. It’s odd, though, that these things should still be out here. They should have been put away by now. Since they’re not, I hope that means we’ll be having another soiree soon. I’m betting it’s going to be the celebration we’ll have right after you join us.”

  “I’ll help you put the chairs up if you need me to,” I offered, attempting to change the subject. “They don’t look too heavy.”

  “Oh, heavens, no. Don’t worry about it. We never do any work around here. Which is great, considering that a lot of things that wind up on this stage are incredibly heavy, like pianos and harpsichords. You see, another benefit of living here is that we don’t have to lift any little finger that we don’t want to because this mansion lies in the heart of the land of leisure. Other than worship services, our time is completely our own to spend as we please in whatever endeavors we chose to pursue.”

  More of an emotion than a memory, a feeling of having worked far too long at something I didn’t really want to be doing flooded my spirit. Somehow I knew that I felt shackled in my life and dearly desired to be able to work on my own projects.

  “That sounds so wonderful,” I said.

  “Oh, it is, Ashley, it is.”

  “Who moves the equipment, then?”

  “Nobody does,” Ben replied. “Whatever we need just appears, including party entertainment, like sets for plays and instruments for concerts. And when it’s over, everything is usually just gone again.”

  “Where does it go?”

  “Honestly, I really don’t know. Like all of our diversions and interests, it comes when it’s needed and it leaves when it’s not. I don’t question it because it’s just how we live our lives here. Arrosha simply takes care of all of that for us. It’s easy to get used to, so I do hope you decide to stay. Even if you don’t want to stay forever, Ashley then please at least stick around for our next party.”

  “When’s that?”

  “Whenever Arrosha decides it’s time to throw one.”

  “Does she attend?” I asked. I had to admit that I was quite curious to meet this Arrosha character.

  “Oh, definitely. She attends all of our galas. She wouldn’t miss one for the world. In fact, after asking us what kind of party we’d like, she organizes the whole thing, from the guest list to providing entertainment and arranging the catering.”

  “The catering?” I asked, the simple mention of real food was making me hungry.

  “Yes, it’s the only time there’s actual food and libations here at the mansion. It’s for the guests, since only our privileged few get to partake of the essence.”

  “Lucky me,” I remarked grimly as visions of home cooking danced in my head.

  “You only say that because you can’t imagine how wonderful it is. Don’t judge it until you’ve tried it first.”

  “Okay, okay,” I acquiesced. “I’ll have to resurrect that sixties’ mantra, ‘I’ll try anything once’.”

  “Atta girl, that’s the spirit.” Ben beamed.

  “Alright, don’t rub it in. So you have these parties like what, every month or so?”

  “Well, we used to have them just once in a blue moon, but we’ve had a bunch this year, especially in the last few months. I don’t know what’s put Arrosha into such a festive mood of late, but whatever the reason, I’m awfully glad of it. There’s nothing I like better than a good party and Ashley, you will love our parties because they are so incredibly fabulous! Truly great galas in the grand tradition. Arrosha hires musicians, actors, performance artists, poets, you name it, to perform at our parties. There are always different themes, so it never gets boring. Some are centered around dances, others concerts or plays. Sometimes, and these are my favorites, we have the most fabulous costume and masquerade balls.

  “Arrosha invites artists, writers, scientists, intellectuals of all sorts, people from all walks of life, rich, poor and everything in-between to our events. The variety of our guests is astonishing. The only requirement Arrosha seems to have is that they must be interesting. Intellectuals, leaders of industry and foreign dignitaries rub shoulders with pub owners, actors, librarians, school teachers, plumbers. The diversity is astonishing. As long as they have interesting stories, viewpoints and ideas, they’re in. It’s very avante garde. I’ve met so many fascinating people and I’ve learned about so much through them. Arrosha usually throws these functions for us when we start to get bored around the mansion and with the club scene in the city, which isn’t very often since there is so much here to keep us entertained.”

  “Meeting so many people must give you guys a l
ot of folks to visit when you travel,” I remarked, testing the length of his gilded tether.

  Ben’s expression became wistful. “I wish. Don’t get me wrong, because I’m certainly not complaining. Hey, look around, what do I have to complain about, right? But my only real gripe, the only thing that I would change about our socials if I could, would be to have at least a few individuals attend more than once. We never get to see anybody a second time. I meet so many people that I’d like to develop friendships with, but Arrosha never invites them back. I’ve asked her to, many times, but she always tells me that she doesn’t want us to have binding ties with the outside world any more. She says that world is wicked and would be a corrupting influence upon us. She wants our only true relationships to be within our little group here.” His buoyancy had vanished and he seemed quite sad, but he sighed resignedly and shrugged. “I guess she’s right. After all, she is the Goddess, the all-seeing, all-knowing Arrosha and I’m just, well, me.” Ben seemed incapable of being down for very long, for as suddenly as it had appeared, the cloud that surrounded him disappeared and his happy, good-natured mood returned.

  “Hey, listen, Ashley, it’s time for us to go on in soon. Somebody should have come for us by now. Can you stay here for a minute while I see why we’re running late?’“

  “Sure.”

  “I promise I’ll be right back.”

  “Not a problem,” I told him.

  He darted toward a door in the narrower inside wall and disappeared. Ben wasn’t gone long before I began to lose the comfort zone that his presence had provided. I had no idea as to how to occupy myself during his absence. I wandered over to the folded chairs and music stands and pretended to study them, careful not to touch because I was afraid I might inadvertently break something or send the stack tumbling. It was terribly disinteresting and I quickly bored of it, so I returned back to the center of the stage as softly as I could, afraid even to make the tiniest noise in this vast mansion which was now far too silent without Ben at my side. He’d been gone only a little more than a minute but without his friendly, reassuring presence, I was beginning to get antsy and grow uneasy. I wandered around the stage in circles, never leaving its empty center, because I felt that I could cause no trouble here. My uneasiness soon grew into an impatience fueled by anxiety. Exactly where had Ben gone? Where was he now in this huge palace of a mansion? He’d headed off to into a part of the house that he hadn’t yet shown me, so I had no way of knowing where to find him if he didn’t return. What if he didn’t return?

  Of course he would return. He had to, he lived here. I didn’t know why I was feeling so insecure. It wasn’t as though he could just disappear into thin air, now, was it?

  That thought, rather than striking me as being more than a little silly, disturbed me. It felt as if it could easily be a real possibility. An odd sensation, rather like a memory, stirred in me, reminding me that such things were indeed possible. But it couldn’t be, could it? My mind, panicking now that Ben was out of the room, was playing tricks on me. I needed to change the path my thoughts were taking, to turn them outward rather than inward, so I lifted my eyes to re-examine the marvelous artworks of the Great Room. What I saw there struck me with terror.

  All the statues in the room that were facing my direction were staring directly at me. After the initial shock, I tried to laugh it off, telling myself that eyes in good art often gave the impression that they were following you around a room. That was all there was to it; it was a simple explanation. I was just being ridiculous again and needed to take hold of my imagination. The rationalization helped for a moment while I rubbed my eyes and looked again. This time I recognized that the sculptures weren’t just looking at me, they were glaring at me. Why were their eyes all so open? Hadn’t some of them been downcast or closed? The Medusa glowered at me intensely, but it wasn’t she who alarmed me so much, because I remembered being startled by her vicious gaze when I first saw her. No, it was Perseus now who frightened me, for his eyes were open and trained upon me, staring at me from over the severed head of the gorgon. I remembered distinctly that his eyes had been closed, for he was purposely avoiding any chance glimpse of Medusa’s snake-infested head and yet, there he now stood, staring at me, a savage look in his eyes.

  All around the Great Room, every statue glared at me with the same expression, scowling and angry. This couldn’t be, it just couldn’t. These were all simply statues made either of stone, metal or crystal, immovable, inanimate objects. This wasn’t happening. I was overtired, that was all. I’d been sick, my eyes were playing tricks on me, they had to be. What I was seeing was impossible. Statues couldn’t move, statues couldn’t see. My panic rose as they continued to glare. I rubbed my eyes a second time and looked back, but it changed nothing. The statues still stared at me with murderous rage.

  What if Ben really wasn’t coming back? I had to get out of here. I had to run. I was near the front door, I could easily escape. I was on the verge of bolting for the exit when a vile, visceral impulse hit me. It was vague but undeniable. I couldn’t leave. I had no idea why, but I knew I couldn’t leave, I could not go out that door. There was no reason, no logic attached to that feeling, just sheer animal instinct, sheer animal terror. Somehow I knew that whatever waited for me out there was far worse than what dwelt in here. I knew without knowing what or why that whatever was out there wanted to kill me, wanted to devour me. My heart raced even faster as I fought to breathe as this unnamed horror engulfed me. I backed away toward the corner of the stage room, toward the drapes; I backed as far away from both the front door and the Great Room with its glowering statues as I could, hiding behind the partition, hiding from those sculptures, from those eyes. If I couldn’t see them from this angle, I knew that they couldn’t see me. I stood in that one spot, afraid and shaking, backed up into the corner, almost crawling into the drapes, praying for Ben’s immediate return.

  Then I heard it. Breaking up the dead silence of the house came a scratching at the window, the sound of fingernails on glass, the sound that signaled that whatever it was that lay in wait for me out there had found my hiding place. Then came a low moaning noise that accompanying the scraping sound, a scraping which became louder, faster, more frequent, as if more hands had joined the first in clawing at the window. I jumped back and turned, staring at the heavy drapes, which, like all the others I’d seen here, were drawn shut. What was it that was out there? What did it look like? What was its shape? Why did it want me? I needed to know; I need to remember. I knew that the answers were someplace within me, buried somewhere within my mind, but they failed to reveal themselves to me. The harder I tried to retrieve them, the deeper they buried themselves. Maybe if I looked, maybe if I saw what lurked out there, what had come for me, maybe then I would remember. As terrified as I was, I had no choice. I had to look, I had to remember. With fear, I stepped toward the drapes, touched them and then drew my hand away. I couldn’t do it, I just couldn’t. But I had to, didn’t I? I was terrified for a reason and I had to find out, had to remember what that reason was. So with shaking hands, I tried again, and this time I slowly, fearfully, began to pull back the drapes.

  With a start, my heart jumped the next second and I froze. Something was crawling in my hair. It felt as though a large insect had suddenly jumped or fallen into it. I shuddered as I braced myself to brush the thing off of me when abruptly, as it continued to crawl, something else, a new something, grabbed the ends of my hair. Had the unnamed evil that was after me come into the house? Had it found me?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Terror-stricken, I gasped. It wasn’t courage but sheer reflex alone that caused me to whisk around, cringing back at the same time. I could feel the blood pump into my brain.

  No ghastly creatures or disgusting insects greeted my eyes. Enormous relief flooded my being as I came face to face with three intensely beautiful women, hands still extended as they continued to touch my hair. They must have been Ben’s housemates. I breathed out deeply
, my fears allayed.

  “Did we frighten you?” Said the first, the tallest of the three women.

  “Oh, no,” I lied. “You just startled me.”

  “Oh, pity,” said the next.

  “Yes, pity,” said the last.

  “It’s just that you have such beautiful hair,” the first spoke again.

  “We couldn’t help but touch it,” the second one remarked.

  “It’s so soft,” the third chimed in.

  Their voices were laced with a heavy, exotic eastern European accent, an accent acquired by learning English in England, not in the United States. It was an intonation that generally appealed to me, one to which I could normally enjoy hearing for hours. Yet what little these three had said I already found disconcerting. Their voices, so soft and melodic, seemed overly seductive in a sinister way. My initial relief was soon replaced by aversion. I didn’t know what it was about them that put me off so quickly. They seemed eccentric, true, but it wasn’t that which I found repellent. It wasn’t their looks, either, for they were extremely striking in appearance, three fair raven-haired beauties whose features seemed flawless. Maybe it was the matching lipstick and nail polish they each wore, so dark it almost matched the drapes. Maybe it was the nightgowns in which they were dressed, garments which, while sheer and sexy, also held a whisper of the death shroud about them. I wondered if they’d chosen those garments specifically for that effect, because the nightgown I’d worn last night had not been in the least funereal. Also, although the women were beautiful beyond belief, they were grouped together tightly, postured in a stance that was both coquettish and predatory at the same time. There was something definitely unhealthy about them that was unnerving as they huddled together, staring at me intently without blinking, as if I were the fly to their spider.

 

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